


Jumping Hedges in the Afternoon

by fickle_fics



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Malcolm's resignation all over the news Grey knows two things - it isn't for real, and despite their break-up , she can't just leave him to deal with the aftermath on his own, even if it means putting herself back into a life she doesn't want to be in. Still with him no longer working 18 hours a day she's given the chance to actually spend some time with Malcolm and remember why she fell in love with him in the first place. She knows it won't last, of course, but the thing about Malcolm is a few days with him is better than nothing. She'll deal with what comes next when it happens.</p><p>It's no surprise then when he gets asked back to the party. The question is is Grey willing to spend another few years of her life waiting around for him, or will she finally get out? And will Malcolm just let it happen like he did before? Or will he finally realise the job isn't the only thing he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping Hedges in the Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smallfandombigbang on LJ, set in the same universe as Cheap Whiskey from the Corner Shop.
> 
> Also gorgeous fanart and fanmix over here - http://archiveofourown.org/works/6439483

The sight of Malcolm on the television screen at the end of the break room made Grey’s heart stop for a moment. He was rarely the subject of the headlines, he was too good at his job for that, but there he was part of the rolling news. She tried not to react as she focused on the image, reading the text that scrolled across the bottom revealing his resignation. For just a second she thought perhaps he’d quit the job for her, for them, but then she remembered that would never happen and if by some weird chance it would he’d have told her, _warned_ her, not let her find out like this. There was something wrong, Really fucking wrong.

Not bothering to finish her coffee she went to grab her bag then stuck her head into her supervisor’s office.

“I need to go home,” she said, the words coming out quickly as she fought to hold it together. “Family emergency. Sorry.”

Her supervisor looked up from his computer, only half interested. “Yeah okay we’re not especially busy. Just remember you won’t get paid and the next really shit job’s yours.”

Fuck the money, fuck all of it. She’d pull an allnighter in the future if that was what it took. Fuck she’d take her P45 if it came to it. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Cheers,” she said, shutting the door behind her as she ran out of the office and towards the tube, making her way to Westminster.

She was about half way there when she realised she had no fucking idea what she was actually doing. She wanted to text Malcolm, She’d kept his number on her phone because she just couldn’t bear the thought of deleting it and she’d tried more times than she could count. The thing was she just couldn’t do it. Even if they weren’t together getting rid of him like that felt incredibly wrong. They’d always kept in contact over the year they hadn’t seen each other. They’d been friends, kind of, well they’d got on at least which was more than either of them did with a lot of people. The thought of not talking to him again was almost unthinkable. There was something else as well, of course - the horrible, niggling voice in the back of her head late at night that told her this couldn’t be it, that they couldn’t _actually_ never be together again. As much as she wanted to move on, to find someone else something was stopping her. There was no one in the _world_ like Malcolm Tucker, thank god, but he’d totally ruined her for anyone else. It was him or nothing now.

She made her way to the tree beside the entrance to the park closest to Downing Street, the one they tended to meet at like they were spies or something. The one he’d have to pass to get home, unless he got a car of course, but even then it would drive past and while she wasn’t sure he’d be looking out of the window considering everything that was happening, with luck he’d see her or she’d see him and wave and hope for the best.

She stood leaning back against it, her eyes moving between the road and the pavement. If he hadn’t already passed here she was going to see him, she was going to go to him, because even though she had no idea what was going on she was going to support him, because this wasn’t right she was sure of that. It was pretty much the only thing she was sure of. There was so many things running through her head as she waited.. She wanted a drink, an emergency cigarette, just something to stop her from freaking out, something to quiet her mind just a bit so she could hold it together. And then there he was, a face like thunder as he strode down the road towards her, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t see her until he’d almost passed her.

And then he stopped, a quick look around the immediate area before he moved back, standing in front of her. “You saw the news then?” he asked as if it hadn’t been months since he’d last spoken to or seen her.

“Tell me what to do, Malc,” she said. “Tell me where to go. How to get there.”

“You’re here,” he said somewhat pointlessly.

Grey dipped her head for just a moment before she looked up at him again. God she felt like such a fucking idiot, but it was too late now, wasn’t it? Like he’d said she was here. “Yeah well where the fuck else would I be?”

“Work, home, your new pretty little boyfriend’s house?”

Grey scoffed. “New boyfriend? You think you’re that easy to replace? You think I’d fucking _want_ to replace you?” She shook her head, fighting the urge to touch him, to hold his hand, to grab him and pull him to her, to kiss him like her life depended on it. God why did he turn her into such a fucking wreck? “Tell me what to do, Malcolm,” she repeated.

“We’ll get the tube,” he said. “I’ll go first. I’ll wait on the platform, you’ll stay close, but you won’t acknowledge me, okay?”

“Fine, whatever you want. And on the other end? I’ve never seen your house, y’know? I don’t know the secret way in.” She was joking, kind of. It wasn’t as if she could just walk in through his front door after all, was it? Especially not today when he was fucking breaking news.

“You might have to hop a few hedges, darling,” he admitted. “Wait in the back garden until I let you in.”

“You’re not even joking, are you?”

“’Fraid not. Will you do it though?”

“Yeah, yeah course I will. Good job I’m wearing trousers, isn’t it?”

“You won’t have to wait long. Just need to fuck up the hacks on my way in.”

“Don’t get arrested for GBH, sweetheart, it’s not gonna do your image any good.”  
“I’ll do my best,” he said as he turned away from her, back in the direction he’d been walking before he’d seen her.

 

The journey to Malcolm’s house had been much more stressful than Grey had imagined. The two of them standing opposite one another in the carriage, not making eye contact, pretending to be completely separate. She’d followed him a few people away on to another tube, noting the way he waited for her at the foot of the escalators before heading to the platform. It was nice the way he didn’t want to lose her despite the fact they were very carefully not being together. Nice, and completely unexpected actually, because this was dangerous, really bloody dangerous. If anyone worked it out things were only going to get worse for him.

He’d texted her the directions to get into his place round the back as they’d left the tube station and she’d followed him, something that was becoming more and more obvious the fewer people there were around as they headed into the residential area where he lived. It was all very nice - green and suburban, a million miles away from the dirt and noise of Camden she was used to. Even the part of Westminster where he had his crashpad seemed dingy in comparison.

She was probably going to get arrested, she realised. But with a bit of luck everyone would be out and any nannies would be too busy doing whatever the fuck it was nannies did when the kids were at school. And if she did get caught Malcolm had a good lawyer, didn’t he? Assuming for a moment Malcolm would be able to help her without getting his name involved. She sighed heavily. Whatever happened she was going to do it, so she had no idea why she was even bothering to worry about possibly being arrested. The sooner she stopped lurking the better really.

Grey was a little out of breath when she finally arrived in what she _really_ hoped was Malcolm’s back garden. It was impossible to tell though, especially without peering through the window, which was only going to get her into even more trouble if this was the wrong house. She scoffed at the ridiculousness of this whole thing, at the ridiculousness of herself. Two months they’d been broken up, and the moment it looked like he might need her she’d been willing to climb over fucking _hedges_ just to be there for him!

She’d been attempting to hide in his garden for about ten minutes when Malcolm opened the back door with a slight smile, pulling her towards him, wrapping his arms around her now they were finally alone together after so long. “You came back.”

“Yeah well it looked like you were trying to get my attention,” she joked, her head resting against his chest. ”Jesus Malc, a fucking text would’ve done. You didn’t have to go on national fucking television.” She tightened her hold on him, one hand gripping his shoulder. She wished she could just carry on like this, making a joke about the whole thing, it would’ve been easier, it would have been much more in keeping with their relationship and their personalities but this was serious. This was fucking _huge_. She swallowed hard and tried to find the right words, _any_ words to actually ask the question. “What’s going on. Malc?” she managed.

“Steve fucking Fleming, the cunt’s wetter than you are when I’m knuckle deep inside you. It‘s all a fucking fix, pay back for me sacking him years ago. It‘s fine, I‘ll sort it out.”

“And in the meantime…” She raised her head to kiss him, intending it to be gentle and caring, but the moment her lips touched his she lost all self control, biting against his lips as she kissed him with all the passion she’d been holding in since she’d last seen him. She pulled back, breathless, and looked at him. It was painful seeing him again, especially in this situation, but there was a certain relief that came with it. She really hadn’t been doing so well without him, really this was inevitable- her coming back for whatever reason. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?” he sighed.

“Of course it fucking matters!” She let go, stepping back to get a better look at him.

“You’re here, I’m fine.”

“Yeah cos I’m your priority, obviously,” she scoffed. “Yeah I’m here, and you can talk to me, you don’t have to pretend, Malc. Not with me.” God she fucking hated this, being the sort of person that said, and _meant_ something like that. Being the person that had dropped everything without even thinking about it to be here for him when she hadn’t even heard from him in months

“Don’t be like that,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He was so fucking tired he realised out of nowhere. Was he always this tired? Did he just not notice because he was always so fucking busy? “Can we just…not get into all of that right now? It’s been months and I’ve fucking missed you, okay? We’ve got so much time to make up for, darling. And I could really use a fucking _welcome_ distraction. Think you can do that for me? Be my distraction? We’ll talk about everything later, aye? Just please, not right now.”

“Okay.” She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. This wasn’t going to last, she knew that, but one night with him would always be better than none. That was the problem.

She led him up the stairs, pausing at the top as she realised she had no idea where his room was.

“This way,” he said quietly, taking over as he pulled her towards his bedroom, shutting the door behind them, leaning back tiredly against it. She could see he was struggling to keep it together. He looked completely lost, smaller than she’d ever seen him and his eyes were rimmed red. It almost hurt to look at him. Her Malcolm. He didn’t deserve this.

“I give it three days before they’re begging you to come back,” she murmured. It was true. The party couldn’t survive without him, all those hours he put in. They’d realise just how indispensable he was with him gone and then everything would go back to the way it had been before. 

He smiled slightly. Perhaps she was right, but surely this was what she wanted? Him out of the front line of politics, because without that there was nothing stopping them being together properly, publicly. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Grey stared at him, incredulous. “You thought…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you, Malc? Fucking look at you! How selfish do you think I am?”

“This is what you wanted though, isn’t it?” he asked. “Me, leaving the party.”

“Of your own free will, not you being forced out! Not you like _this_! Fuck’s sake, Malcolm!” She shook her head. “At the risk of sounding like a total fucking cunt here I just want you to be happy and safe and not fucking…screwed over like this by something you’ve given your whole fucking _life_ to! And actually _no_ you out of the party wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was to see you, like in daylight. Christ,. not even restaurants cos we both know I don’t have the self restraint to not try and feel you up or encourage you to shag me in the toilets. I wanted nights in with you. I was just tired of going to bed and waking up without you, I didn’t want you to quit your fucking job for me!”

“Could you do me a really massive favour and stop shouting at me?” he asked, all the usual fire and anger gone from his voice. Now he just sounded broken, tired. 

Grey couldn’t stand it. She wanted him to shout back, to stand up for himself even if he didn’t have a leg to stand on.“Malcolm.” There was so much pain in her voice he could hardly bear it. She reached up to touch his face far too gently, too careful, like she was afraid he might break or something, which was how he felt, he just wished she didn’t seem so fucking aware of that fact.

“Take me to bed, darling,” he said tiredly, his head dipped to look at her as his arms wound around her waist. “I just need to not think about anything, just for a while.” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before opening them again. “I know you’re still angry with me, and you have every right to be, but I’ve missed you,” he said again. “So can we just ignore all that, just for now?” She was the only thing he had other than his job, the only relief but it was so much more than that. She understood him, accepted him. Fuck she loved him and he loved her, so why was this whole thing so fucking difficult?

Grey pulled him away from the door towards his bed, her eyes on him the whole time. It was still light out. This wasn’t them spending the night tonight but she had no intention of getting out of bed and Malcolm really didn’t look in any fit state to do so. As far as she was concerned this was it - they were going to bed in the middle of the afternoon and they weren’t getting up until tomorrow.

She hated how much she wanted him as she stopped at the edge of his bed to loosen his tie, leaning in to kiss his neck, one hand in his hair. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to do all this. What he wanted. All she could think about was how much she’d missed him and how much she wanted to remember every tiny little detail about him again. She wanted to savour him. to commit it all to memory, because this wasn’t going to last, but _fuck_ as long as he was here that was all that mattered and she was going to make the most of it while she could. She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself together. She had to do that too much with him she realised, but it had been months and the scent of him, the heat of his body was so real there was a tiny part of her that wanted to cry with relief.

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, her lips still against his neck as she undid them. The way she saw it as long as her lips were pressed against his skin she couldn’t say anything fucking stupid, and she wanted to. She wanted to tell him how much she’d missed him, how crazy she’d been going without him, how he’d ruined her for other men but she really wanted to keep some kind of dignity even now.

Pushing his shirt off she finally looked him in the eye. He still looked so fragile. She really didn’t know what to do, beyond fuck him, but she knew he needed more than that, she just wasn’t sure she could give it to him. 

He didn’t have the greatest body in the world, actually she was pretty sure he’d lost even more weight since she’d last seen him. It was still impossible for her to keep her hands to herself though. There was an objective part of her brain that knew his body was nothing impressive, it was just that it was completely and totally overruled by the part that reminded her it was Malcolm- Malcolm who was the most amazing man she’d ever met and how she wanted him more than anything, now more than ever, because it had been far too long since she’d been alone with him, since she’d been able to touch or kiss him and right now she just wanted to do anything and everything to him all at once. Her fingers curled against his skin, scratching lightly as she leant in to kiss his neck again moving back towards his bed and climbing onto it until she was kneeling in front of him.

Malcolm reached down for the hem of Grey’s top pulling it up and off as he cast it aside, pausing to look at her. Sometimes he imagined she was carved out of marble she was so pale and flawless, though that wasn’t quite all it was. She was oddly statuesque, slim but muscular and those tiny little tits of hers…and she was always so hard, so firm, like her flesh always somehow resisted his touch.

His hands moved firmly against her sides, upwards until they reached her breasts, cupping them as he looked at her kneeling in front of him, mouth slightly open, eyelids heavy. _Fuck_ how he’d missed her like this, and it wasn’t even how she’d been the last time they’d been together. No it had been much longer since he’d had her like this, wide awake and eager for him. Nothing in the world could have been worse for him right now but with Grey looking like that it seemed easy enough to forget for now.

“Bed,” she said breathlessly, reaching down to the fastenings of her trousers, kissing him forcefully for only a moment before she moved away, wriggling out of them and her boxers in one go, throwing them aside as she pulled back the duvet and got into his bed, pulling back the other side in invitation.

He wasted no time in getting rid of his own trousers, slipping in beside her and winding his arms around her warm body, rolling against her so they were side by side.

“Grey,” he breathed, pulling her more tightly against him.

She shifted back just enough to look at his face as she ran her hand over his shoulder, to his neck, until she stopped with it in his hair. “Malc.” She smiled shakily, still fighting to keep it together. There was a reason Grey tended to turn to alcohol rather than deal with her feelings head on, and right now she was genuinely terrified she might just burst into tears if she wasn’t very, very careful.

“You have no fucking idea how happy I was to see you waiting for me,” he said. “If you weren’t here-”

She leant in, pressing her lips against his before he could say something that might just tip her over the edge. She’d told him he could talk to her, and she’d meant it. The thing was now she realised it wasn’t Malcolm keeping everything to himself that was the main problem, it was her complete inability to be able to deal with any of it when it really came down to it. She was just as fragile as he was right now. Just the thought of him here, alone made her feel ill.

“But I am,” she pointed out, as she broke the kiss. “Honestly, Malc, do you seriously think I could see you on the news like that and just carry on with my day?”

“I don’t fucking know, do I? I’ve never had any clue what goes on in that fucking head of yours.”

What went on in her head revolved around him way too much, but admitting that didn’t seem like it’d help either of them. “You have no fucking clue how much I love you, do you?” she asked.

Malcolm very nearly managed a smile. “Think I might be starting to work it out a little bit,” he admitted. “But if you’d like to start showing me anytime soon that’d be much appreciated “

Hooking her leg over his hip she pulled him against her, pressing herself against him, molding her body against his so they were flush against each other before she kissed him again, just as passionately as she had done before, rubbing herself against him, unable to stop herself. Only nothing was happening. It had been two months since they’d been in bed together and nothing was going on. _Fuck_. And it wasn’t like she could say anything, was it? What could she say? ‘Why aren’t you hard?’ She could guess why he wasn’t hard, she wasn’t an idiot. She didn’t want to draw attention to it, it wasn’t like Malcolm wouldn’t know he didn’t have a hard on, was it? So how would that help?

Slowly she pulled back just a little. “Actually, I think maybe you should try and get some sleep,” she said. “We can fuck when you wake up, when you don’t look like you’re ready to fucking drop, yeah?”

 

Grey woke up, turning over to find Malcolm, but all she found were cold sheets on his side of the bed. Opening her eyes she glanced at the clock in the dim light - 4.30am, too early for even Malcolm to be up and about surely? Under normal circumstances she’d have just rolled over and gone back to sleep, but these really weren’t normal circumstances, and she was pretty sure after months not seeing each other he wouldn’t get out of bed with her, knowing him he’d just lie there and watch her like a creepy fucker. 

Still half asleep she pulled herself out of bed and padded down the landing, listening out for any sign of him downstairs. She wasn’t used to this - having two floors to have to find him on, The three rooms in his crashpad had been bad enough. She stood completely still for a few moments, then called his name and got no answer. She tried not to panic, sure she was being ridiculous, this was Malcolm she was talking about, but after the night before...he way he’d been, so fragile. She couldn’t help it. 

The bathroom door was closed at the end of the landing, which was admittedly probably nothing, but she walked towards it, completely naked. and paused outside. “Malc?”

Malcolm forced himself to open his eyes, his head resting against the cold tile of the bathroom floor. He really should’ve been able to pull himself together by now. He’d been sure he only needed a minute, that had been over two hours ago. now here she was, outside, saying his name in that anxious way she always tried to hide.

“I’ll just be a minute, darling,” he called back, hoping he didn’t sound nearly as wrecked as he felt.

“You okay?”

“Aye, aye I’m fine just…” he trailed off and swallowed, tears blurring his eyes again. He had Grey, it wasn’t everything, but it was something. He needed to get a grip, focus on sorting this mess out, on making the most of having her in his house, not crying on the fucking bathroom floor like a fucking mental case. “Go back to bed.”

Grey didn’t say anything for a moment. She hated knowing him this well, being able to tell what was going on with him just by his tone of voice. She knew she should do as he’d asked, go back to bed, let him have his privacy, let him crawl back into bed with her when he was ready and not ask any more questions, but _fuck_ too much went unsaid between them.

“Can I come in?” she asked through the door.

Malcolm’s head shot up as he wiped at his face. She couldn’t know he’d been weeping like a little boy, she just couldn’t! “Why the fuck would you want to come in? Got some weird fucking fetish I don’t know about? Christ. just when I thought I knew everything about you there’s this.”

The fact he could still reply like that was a good sign she knew, but not quite good enough.  
“Malc,” she sighed, head leaning against the door. She was a bit too tired for this really, but then maybe that was why she was pushing things, she was tired enough to be brave, or maybe foolish. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I know you. I know how important this whole thing is to you, I mean-” She stopped herself instantly, now really wasn’t the time to point out the fact his job had been the reason for their break-up, but it was. She came second to it, she was only here because _it_ wasn’t. “Just let me in, yeah?”

Malcolm hauled himself up and across the bathroom to unlock the door, as the handle was pulled down instantly and she stood there completely naked, just as he was. Only she just looked amazing, tired yes, but just as gorgeous as always. He was fairly sure the same couldn’t be said for him.

She should have just gone back to bed, the moment she saw him she knew that, she could have been curled up in his impossibly fluffy duvet with her eyes closed pretending everything was fine and avoiding the concrete evidence that it wasn’t. She could have fooled herself into thinking that he’d just been taking a piss and then woken up in his arms and gone on like everything was normal, she was really fucking good at that - pretending everything was okay. This though, the sight of him so fucking… _wrong_ was so bad she just felt numb, like the way if you injured yourself badly enough your nerves just cut out so you couldn’t feel any pain, that was how she felt now, just…nothing.

“What?” he snapped.

She looked up at him, trying to work out what to do, she was crap at this, pulling him into bed had always been her best solution when it came to making things better, but she was pretty certain she couldn’t just fuck this whole situation out of his head.

“Nothing to say? Well that’s a fucking turn up for the books,” he said as he pushed past her.

Grey turned surprisingly quickly even to herself and grabbed his wrist. stopping him for walking away. “I fucking love you,” she said, loosening her grip and reaching for his hand instead. “Malc, you know...you know you can talk to me about stuff, yeah? I mean, okay so I’m shit with people crying... But Christ, you know I’d try, for you. I just...fucking _hell_ Malcolm, I don’t want to wake up to you crying in the fucking toilet because you don’t want me to see you, or whatever. I want to help, fuck’s sake, why do you think I’m here?”

“Because you’re a fucking masochist,” he replied, still looking straight ahead, unable to look at her. “What other explanation is there?”

“I’d suggest love but fuck it, we’re both too cynical for that, aren’t we? So I dunno call it desperation, addiction, call it a bit of fucking human kindness, I don’t care what you call it, just fucking talk to me, fucking….fall apart if that’s what you need to do, _fuck_ , Malcolm, do you think anything’s gonna make me think less of you? I wish it fucking would, but after everything, yeah I think that ship’s sailed.”

He couldn’t do this, he just couldn’t. He turned though, facing her and stepping closer, looking at her for a moment. Grey, his fucking girl, even after months he couldn’t help but think of her like that. His rock, the one person he really could say anything to and she’d be worryingly fine with it. Jesus, why had he not made more of an effort? Why had he let the _one_ thing he had for himself, the one _good_ thing get away? Only she hadn’t got away, had she? He’d pushed her away and now she’d come back and he was doing it again! What the fuck was wrong with him?

Suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck, eyes closed against the tears. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said, the words muffled against her skin. “I wasn’t even fucking _there_. They force me to take leave, then get that fucking Mario tribute _cunt_ in to watch things and he lets _this_ happen. It’s not my fucking fault!”

She held onto him too tightly really, no idea what else to do. They really weren’t cut out to be in this situation, they were way more about anger and banter and stress, this was completely unchartered territory for them.

“All the time we were together and you never took a week off,” she muttered, “Fuck I wish you’d called me.”

“You didn’t want to hear from me,” he pointed out. “Would’ve been nice though, least I’d’ve got a week of you fucking me before Fleming did.”

“He hasn’t got a fucking leg to stand on, everyone knows you were away when everything went to shit.” She pulled back, touched his face, wiping a tear away from his cheek. “Have you been to sleep yet?”

“You know me, I don’t need sleep.”

“Yeah, right. So let’s just pretend it’s for me, right? Because I’ve missed sleeping next to you, you snoring like a bear cub.”

“Better than you snoring like a fucking dying rhino.”

“Will you just please come back to bed with me, close your eyes. You need to sleep, being knackered really isn’t gonna help anything.”

 

Grey woke up, Malcolm still beside her in his bed. She wasn’t used to that. She’d never woken up before him all the time they’d been together, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up with him still in bed with her rather than with the weight of his body leaving the bed far too early in the morning. It was nice, which she instantly felt bad for thinking. The circumstances couldn’t have been worse and the fact he was still asleep didn’t really seem like a good sign either. She realised she was staring only when Malcolm stirred and she felt her heart race. She should probably get out of bed really, leave him to sleep, he had at least eight years worth of it to catch up on afterall. The thing was getting out of a bed Malcolm was in went against everything she believed in. Instead she closed her eyes again, shuffling a little bit closer to him.

Malcolm groaned sleeply, pressing back against her as he tried not to think, not to let anything from the day and night before get inside his head. It was no good though it all came flooding back, but then how could it not? He was in bed, without being woken by his alarm when it was still dark out, when Grey was wrapped round him. Grey - everything had turned to utter shit so quickly, but at least Grey was here. Something he was stunned by, after everything that had happened, everything he’d done, or not done rather. But here she was, and _fuck_ he’d never been more thankful for anything. He’d said they’d talk though, but after last night, after she’d caught him in the bathroom...the mere thought of talking about all that made him feel like clawing his skin from his body and vomiting himself inside out.

And then he felt her lips against the nape of his neck and he relaxed. 

She wanted to say she could get used to this, because she could, but she knew she’d never have the chance to, or if she would it wouldn’t be for years. It was better not to even think about it, just enjoy it for what it was, one morning in bed with him for the first time in well over a year. Instead she didn’t say anything, just wrapped herself a bit more tightly around him, let her teeth scrape lightly against his skin, And _fuck_ , maybe that wasn’t even a good idea after last night. She didn’t want him thinking she was only after him for sex after all, even if she had really, _really_ missed that.

Malcolm allowed himself to relax against her, his arm slipping over hers as they lay there in blissful silence. This was Grey, yeah there were certain things that she’d push, but there were also things she wouldn’t. That was just kind of the deal with them, they knew what they could and couldn’t talk about, and she wouldn’t make him talk about the fact he’d been weeping on the bathroom floor or any of that, she knew him too well for that.

“So,” she said after a while. “Can I keep you to myself another day? Cos I’ve gotta say I’m loving this whole having you naked and in bed thing.”

Naked but not actually doing anything, another thing they were decidedly not fucking mentioning, thank god. Although in fairness he did have a few totally legitimate reasons for not being able to get it up, and honestly he was almost pissed off she wasn’t even giving him the chance to tell her them.

“Maybe, if you’re good,” he replied, reaching down for her leg. Okay so he couldn’t get it up right now, but so fucking what? He still had fingers and a fucking tongue, didn’t he? There was absolutely no reason he couldn’t still show her a very good time, remind her of what she’d been missing these past couple of months.

“Oh well guess I’ve got no chance then,” she replied, angling herself closer against him as his hand moved higher.

And then his phone rang.

 

“Would you mind staying up here for a wee while, darling?” Malcolm asked when he came back. “And keeping it really fucking quiet?”

Grey raised an eyebrow at him. “Is your other girlfriend coming round, Malcolm? Boyfriend? Mum?”

“Just a friend.”

“You don’t have any friends,” she reminded him. “Come on, be honest, who is it?”

Malcolm dipped his head chewing his lip.

“Okay you’re freaking me out now, who the fuck is it?”

“He’s just…y’know a man that handles some of my affairs?”

“You gonna sue those pricks for unfair dismissal?”

“Not those kinds of affairs, more…business I guess you could say. He handles…” his nose wrinkled and he scratched the back of his head. “He handles my media appearances,” he admitted, feeling like a total wanker.

“You’ve got a fucking _agent_?” Grey asked unable to contain her obvious amusement at this news. 

“It’s just so I don’t have to deal with fucking editors and shit asking for interviews or whatever, it’s not like I get him much work.”

“No?”

“Well I mean there was that cover of GQ but…” he shrugged.

“You were on the cover of GQ?” she asked.

“No need to sound so fucking surprised, darling!” he protested.

“I’m only surprised you’d agree to do it. Not that they’d ask you. “

“Aye well it took a lot of persuading let me tell you..”

“Have you still got it?” she said a bit too eagerly. “The cover?”

“You’re like the reverse of those perverts that claim they only read _Penthouse_ for the articles, aren’t you? You only want GQ for the fucking pictures.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment, particularly since in this case it was totally true. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“If I find it for you will you stay out of trouble up here until he’s gone?” He paused for a moment, realising how bad that sounded. She’d been here a day and things were already more or less back to normal. “Sorry, it’s just…on top of everything else, you understand, don’t you?”

Grey smiled, closing the space between them and kissing Malcolm for just a second before she grabbed his arse. “Course I do. Now you go and find me the picture and I’ll try really, really hard not to come too loudly, yeah?”

 

“So?” Grey asked, rolling over towards the doorway when Malcolm reappeared in the bedroom. She hadn’t bothered getting dressed, or out of bed full stop. She was still very much hoping he’d be rejoining her so it didn’t really seem worth it.

“Total waste of fucking time. Can you believe someone wants me to write a fucking children’s book?”

“What kind of parent would buy their kids a book _you’d_ written?” she asked, sitting up.

“A very fucking liberal one?”

Grey raised her eyebrow. “That it?”

“He’s got me a meeting at the BBC, Might be interesting,” he said climbing onto the bed with her, already pulling off his jumper.

“Oh yeah? Something for BBC4? The history of spin or something? I can just see it now, you walking around Whitehall talking directly to camera and gesticulating a lot.”

“BBC3 actually.”

Grey shifted to get a better look at his face, her hopes, or perhaps more accurately, fantasies, fading in front of her. “BBC3? Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re not exactly normal BBC3 material.”

“And what’s that then?”

“Fucking annoying early twenty something presenters and bright colours? It’s all very… _youth_.”

“Well I said I’d go, and I need to find something to do, don’t I?”

“Straight away?”

“As much as I’d love to be able to just stay in bed with you you know that isn’t really me. I need to get back out there, find something else.”

“You know they’re gonna beg you to come back, Malc.”

“Yeah well let’s just call this Plan B, shall we?”

 

Grey hadn’t really had much chance to pay any attention to the interior of Malcolm’s house over the past couple of days. The day he’d supposedly resigned they’d gone straight upstairs and she’d spent the day after that in bed as if she could ignore reality and the knowledge that sooner or later Malcolm would be back at work, just as busy as normal. She could only do that for so long though. even when he rejoined her in bed after his various meetings. So finally she’d admitted defeat and agreed to getting out of bed, to not pulling him into it every time he wasn’t busy. Now Grey did have the time to take everything in she really wasn’t impressed.

“These cushions?” she said, holding one up in each hand - pastel, _beaded_. She’d have been less surprised if she’d found a load of women’s clothes in his size in the wardrobe, and also a fuck of a lot more in favour and turned on.

“What about them?” he asked from the kitchen where he was making coffee.

“Are they..?” She trailed off ‘a joke’ had been the end of that sentence but she thought better of it. She looked around it was all so _white_ , so clean, so fucking _normal_ , and okay she had no idea what to expect it just didn’t feel like Malcolm. “Is this really your house,” she said, tossing the cushions back down.

“No, darling. I killed the actual married couple that live here just to make it a bit easier for you to get into. Have you not noticed the smell yet? Yes it’s my fucking house, why do you ask?”

“It’s just so…bland. And those cushions.” She glanced at them again, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Pastel beaded cushion covers, they did not fit with the scariest man in the government! 

“My ex chose them, okay?” he said just a little defensively. They weren’t that bad, were they?

“Because divorcing you wasn’t enough? She had to also punish you by making you live with them?”

“Are they that fucking terrible?”

“Yeah,” she said adamantly. “Yeah they’re fucking hideous, Malc, like I sort of want to turn to arson just to deal with them.”

Malcolm shook his head, walking out of the kitchen to join her in the living room. “If you feel that strongly about them fine I’ll get rid of them, Jesus I had no idea you had such passionate views on fucking soft furnishings!”

“Neither did I,” she admitted. “Until I saw those.”

“You don’t like the house.”

“It’s not what I expected..

“You’ve thought about it then?” he asked. “What my house might look like?”

“No, no not really, just…I dunno…it doesn’t feel like you.”

“And what do I feel like?” he asked, trying and failing. not to smirk.

“Somewhere with a dungeon full of junior ministers screaming for mercy?” she offered, resisting the urge to give in to his obvious innuendo;

“I’ve got a lockup near the docks for that.”

“Probably smarter, yeah. People are bit too likely to hear their pleas around here, aren’t they? Report it to the police and stuff.”

Malcolm smiled. They never really had all that much time to talk, which was all his fault, but fuck he’d forgotten how much fun it was, having these totally fucking stupid conversations with her. And she was funny, in the same twisted way he was, he’d almost forgotten that as well. “Exactly. And you know it’s not like I really spend much time here, or have any kind of time to think about changing anything. It doesn’t matter to me. I live at work, and the crashpad, you know that, this is just some property I own and very, very occasionally stay in when I’m on holiday.”

“So you haven’t changed anything,” she said.

“When the fuck would I’ve’d had the time to do that? I barely had the time to get divorced.”

“So this is all your ex. “ It was something they never really talked about - Malcolm’s ex wife. She knew he’d been married, she remembered seeing the ring on his finger before it had really occurred to her to care, but they didn’t talk about it, because Grey didn’t want to know and Malcolm didn’t seem inclined to talk about it, but right now she was horribly aware of the other woman, and her lack of any kind of interesting style or taste. Not that Grey could talk, she had one room in a shared house which resembled that of a student, she just knew what she really didn’t like and those cushions made her oddly uneasy.

“Why do I really feel like I shouldn’t’ve brought you here?” he asked. They could have just gone back to the crashpad. Why the fuck hadn’t he? There’d been no real reason to come here, not with Grey, to surround her with his ex wife’s things. Malcolm might not have been the most sensitive person but he realised now it was pretty bad.

“It’s fine,” she said and she actually meant it. “It makes sense. Jesus, it’s not like there’s anything at the crashpad that makes it seem like yours either, I guess I’m just used to that, because it’s always been like that and weirdly it feels more like you.”

“Completely empty and devoid of any personality?”

“Well…yeah. The lack of you makes sense there, because it’s not meant to be where you actually live.”

.“Not _meant_ to be,” he agreed. But it was.

“I get it. You don’t care about that stuff, you don’t have time,” she shrugged as she took a step closer to him. Generally speaking he didn’t have time for anything, including her. She’d just never really thought that much about everything else in his life he neglected in favour of the party.

“Maybe you should take the opportunity to changes things now,” she suggested. “Or y’know at least set fire to a bunch of shit.”

“I could,” he agreed, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him as he dipped his head, “But I think I have better things to do with my time while you’re here.”

“Oh yeah?” she said.

 

They were back in bed again, she’d managed a couple of hours, she’d eaten and showered which were probably the most important things, but Malcolm still looked tired, unkempt, _unshaven_. Grey hated how much she liked it - the way he looked. She’d only ever seen him completely together, either suited or naked, but always clean shaven, always one hundred percent Malcolm F Tucker, the man in complete control of everything, the whole fucking country. It wasn’t so much that he looked tired, more that he looked… _relaxed_ , like he didn’t need to keep up appearances and it looked good on him, the silver stubble that almost seemed to glisten in the sunlight that came in through the crack in the curtains. 

She turned to face him, hooking her leg over his hip. “So are gonna grow a beard now? I think I might like it, it’d be like fucking a really skinny Santa.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her. “And that’d do it for you, would it?”

“I dunno, maybe. I like you like this though, bit rough around the edges.”

“You want me to let myself go,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, as he shifted closer, pushing his body against hers.

“I want you to be able to relax.”

He laughed. “It’s a nice fucking thought, but we both know that’s never gonna happen.”

“Sometimes it does,” she said, her hips tilting closer as she reached up to stroke his hair.

“A couple of hours at a time,” he clarified. “Not the same thing.”

“No,” she agreed. “Which is why it’s so much more noticeable now.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment. He wished he could just relax, even on his enforced ‘holiday’ he hadn’t been able to do that, he’d just used it as time to get together with people he might not have been able to otherwise, not all at once at least, it had been a time saving measure. Even on holiday the job had been all he’d thought about. “This isn’t me relaxing, darling,” he said.

“Then what is it?” she asked before she realised she didn’t really want to know the answer. And that she already did. It was him giving up.

“It doesn’t matter. But I’m glad you still want to fuck me, darling.”

“Nothing could stop me wanting to do that,” she said. It was fucked up, but that was pretty suited to everything about them, wasn’t it? There wasn’t a single healthy thing about their relationship she was sure.

“No?” he asked, twisting to face her.

“You want proof, sweetheart,” she asked, shifting closer, so she was pressed against him, her thumb stroking against the grain of his stubble.

“Yes please,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her.

And then his phone rang on the bedside table next to them.

“Ignore it,” Grey said against his lips as he was already pulling away.

He’d already reached for it as she let go of him, twisting away to stare up at the ceiling.

“Julius,” he said glancing at her as he answered it, getting out of bed as if he had to keep these things from her. As if she couldn’t already feel everything shifting back into place, to where it had been before his sacking. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes against tears. They’d had a couple of days, it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

 

“I’ve got to go,” he said when he came back into the room, looking around for his clothes and pulling them on.

Grey didn’t say anything for a while, just lay there for a bit before she finally turned her head to look at him. “Told you they’d come crawling back,” she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded.

“You did,” he agreed, leaning over to kiss her. “Hopefully it won’t take too long, okay? I’ll try not to wake you if it does.”

 _I’ll try not to wake you._.

Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck_!

Fuck Julius. Fuck the party and fuck Malcolm too. She wasn’t going to wait for him to come back, crawl into bed with her like he had done a hundred other times. She was done with that, she really was. And okay maybe that wasn’t what this was. Maybe this wasn’t Julius begging him to come back but she was pretty sure it was, and the way Malcolm had pretty much lept out of bed told her everything she needed to know. As much as she wished she could she couldn’t pretend this wasn’t happening. She couldn’t just roll over and go to sleep, not knowing everything was about to go back to exactly the same way it had been before.

She didn’t have anything here to pack, which she felt faintly annoyed about. It would have made a statement, proved a point. She’d done it once before of course, but he hadn’t been there to see it - her packed bag, so it hadn’t really counted. He’d just managed to notice the fact that the few things she’d had at his crashpad were gone. And now he would be here to see it all she had was her messenger bag, the one she took to work so she could carry her homemade lunch and the essentials of her life which really didn’t consist of much beyond some eyeliner and a very crumpled packet of emergency cigarettes. It wasn’t really going to make much of a point, there was nothing extra in it. She’d been using his spare toothbrush, wearing the same clothes she’d arrived in, washing with his toiletries which did nothing for her skin but admitting she even had a fucking skin care regimen felt like admitting too much about herself.

But she _was_ leaving. That was the point. She’d made her mind up the moment Julius had called because she knew what it meant. As much as she loved Malcolm, and he loved her even, she knew how this was all going to go down. It was just like she’d said, they couldn’t cope without him, they were calling him back. This was a good thing, for Malcolm at least, for her it was the end of everything again, and it was even harder this time, because now she knew what she was willing to do for him, that when it came to it the moment it looked like he might need her she’d be there. Moving on would be impossible now. How could she when things might go to shit for him again? And she had to be there, she just did. She couldn’t let him go through things like this alone, she loved him too much for that, so much, she realised she was just going to spend her life waiting around for him, just in case. _Fuck_ she hated herself for loving him that much.

Now she was just waiting for him to come home with the ‘good’ news.

Malcolm wasn’t quite as happy as Grey had expected when he got back. Or surprised to find her sitting on the stairs when he came in despite the fact it was almost midnight.

“Bunch of weasely fucking _cunts_. Apparently my fucking ‘resignation’ caused a problem for them!” He did the air quotes, just in case Grey was stupid enough to not know what he meant, or maybe it was merely a dramatic gesture, Malcolm did like using his hands after all.

“So…?” she asked letting the word trail off. He hadn’t told Julius to get fucked, she knew he hadn’t, it just wasn’t in him. Oh he might make if difficult, protest, make it seem like he was doing them some massive favour but he was going back to the party, he’d always been going back to the party it was just a matter of when.

“I’m just waiting to see what he does next, how he fixes this, possibly with a little help from yours truly.”

“So you’re going back,” she said with the kind of smile that hurt her face.

“Once he’s proven himself, which he will. So yes, I’m going back. Like you said they can’t cope without me, they came crawling back!”

It was a wonder she hadn’t burst into tears, but then that wasn’t really Grey’s style. And it wasn’t like this was a shock, she’d seen this coming the moment she’d pulled herself together enough to remind herself he was never going to resign. This whole thing had been nothing but a set up waiting to be fixed. And now it was.

Grey stood and looked at him. She was twenty six now, young, but smart enough to know she was probably too young to really know all that much about love, about forever and all that bullshit. She didn't believe in the idea of someone being the love of another person's life, because if something happened to that person then what? And what were the chances of ever meeting that person anyway? There were no soul mates or anything like that. It was all just a way of selling tacky pink shit, and fuck she hated all that romantic crap. Malcolm was not her soul mate, wasn't the love of her life. He was more than twice her age and sometimes late at night what that actually meant for them in terms of how long they could actually be together crept into her mind. Would she have to look after him? Cos she'd do that, Christ she was constantly waiting for a stroke or heart attack. Would she have to watch him die? The thing was that didn't even come down to age. That came down to this fucking job. She'd watched it age him already. Watched his hair turn from dark brown to almost completely grey. Watched him losing weight. It was going to kill him. And he was going to let it. He was going to stay there until it put him in his fucking grave. That she couldn't stand by and watch.

But this. God this was fucking killing her. Because she loved him, more than she'd ever loved anyone, more than she'd ever _wanted_ to love anyone. More than she was aware she _could_ love anyone and that was the real problem. It had changed her, her feelings for Malcolm. She put up with so much shit for him. Put herself through so much she really shouldn't have, compromised and hid and sat in on her own when she could have been out, in public with a man that could actually be seen with her. Christ, she'd become fucking pathetic because of him, for him. What he was was the greatest man she’d met, so far. And that was the key. _So far_. She’d been with Matt since uni, and then Malcolm. Jesus, she’d slept with five men in her entire life. She didn’t have a fucking clue what was out there for her. And she owed it to herself to find out, didn’t she? Just in case there was something else. She had to _try_ , even if she didn’t believe it would work.

She couldn't do it any more, not knowing it was always going to be like this, and she knew it would.

"I need to leave. This was never us getting back together," she admitted. her tone hollow and blank. "I can't do this to myself. I can't spend my whole fucking life waiting for you to come home for a few hours, to wake me up with your hand between my legs. To wake up with you carrying me to bed because I've fallen asleep in front of the TV waiting again. I'm twenty fucking six! I should be living my life, getting drunk, dancing. I shouldn't be sitting in a darkened room waiting for someone to fit me in. _Fuck_ not even fit me in, because you’d be there anyway . I’m really happy everything’s being sorted but…I can’t stick around for it."

Malcolm didn't know what to say. She was right, of course she was. And honestly he had no idea what he'd been thinking. Obviously she'd only been there while he'd been sacked, while he'd been in serious danger of doing something fucking stupid. She'd been there for him, for his safety. He hadn't even thought about what it was doing to her, what having him to herself for a few days had done before he'd been begged to come back. He had half expected so much time together to have put her off, but she’d seemed happy. Maybe it would have been better if she had realised what a total fucking wanker he was once you really got to know him.

“I’m just a distraction.” She scoffed at her own words. “Christ I’m not even that, I’m just...more convenient than a fucking prostitute.”

“You know it’s not like that,” he said quickly. He wished it was sometimes, it would’ve been so much easier if that was all it was - sex, but despite how little time they actually spent together it really wasn’t.

“Yeah I do,” she conceded. “But I’m not what I want to be.”

“And what the fuck’s that, darling?” he asked.

“I have no fucking idea anymore Just not… _this_. I think maybe we're both just cut out to be alone," she suggested. "Because I know for sure if I ever come close to feeling this way about someone else ever again I'm running the fuck away." She shook her head. "I can't deal with it. I'm not cut out for love. For loving someone this fucking much." She hated him so much she wanted to tear bits of flesh from his bones. Wanted to scream and howl and tear him apart for this.

But then she also really wanted to take everything back and drag him into bed and fuck him senseless.

Bastard!

“I should carry a fucking bell around with me. ‘Unclean, un-fucking-clean!” he said.

“You don’t think your personality already does that? It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into. It’s funny though, I’ve heard you’re okay with normal people, civilians. I heard someone use the word ‘charming; once..”

“But you don’t want charming, do you, darling? You’d hate it.” That was part of the problem, why it was so fucking hard to just let go. He didn’t have to pretend with her, didn’t have to hide his real personality, he could just be himself, and she actually seemed to _like_ it. Love it even. Love _him_. He’d never understood why so really this was inevitable, wasn’t it? She had to come to her senses sooner or later.

She smiled faintly. He had a point there. Charming tended to equate with smarmy and fake in her head, it just didn’t work for her. It was the way he wasn’t careful about anything he said that she liked.

“We’ve been in a relationship for two fucking years,” he pointed out.

“A relationship? We’ve been hiding in your fucking crashpad and hotel rooms, I’m not totally sure what this is, but it’s not a relationship. My mum didn’t even know about you until we broke up! Nothing’s gonna change is it? And you know the real irony? If it did, if you chose me over the party you wouldn’t be the man I love.”

“Love, present tense?”

“Don’t fucking do that, Malc. You know I do. I just...I can’t be this fucking person anymore. I’m pathetic. I hate it, what I’ve become. I never saw myself becoming like this for anything, especially not some fucking man. And you really are some fucking man. Malcolm fucking Tucker. The greatest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.” She closed her eyes, because she had the horrible feeling she was going to cry, and that was only going to make things so much worse for the both of them.

When she finally felt in some kind of control over herself she opened them again. “It’s been great. Okay no, it hasn’t, it’s been fucking shit seeing you so depressed, so lost. But in a really fucked up way it was nice. Having you to myself for a bit, getting a sense of what it might’ve been like under different circumstances. It’s so fucking messed up that even having you here like this felt sort of better than only seeing you for a bit really late at night. Malcolm, this is...this isn’t right. I’m sorry, and I love you more than anyone. And honestly? I really can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else, but I can’t be with you so what’s the point? I’m fucking destroying myself here.”

Malcolm didn’t know what to say, because she was right. This wasn’t the life she was supposed to be living. She was worth so much more than that but he’d dragged her down. He’d made the effort for maybe the first month and then it had just been like this ever since. And she’d stuck around. Two fucking years and she’d stuck around. And the thing was he still wanted her to stay. He was still selfish enough to not just let her walk away again. She’d come back. He hadn’t asked her to, she just had. It wasn’t his fault she was such a fucking masochist, was it?

“What if I try?” he offered. “I mean properly, really. No more coming home at midnight every night. No more working all the hours god sends even at weekends. Grey...I fucking love you!”

She stepped forward, touched his face. Malcolm, her wonderful, angry, passionate, Malcolm. She had no idea how she was doing this, how she was saying these things, it wasn’t like she didn’t mean them but… _fuck_ , why was it like this? Why was it _him_ she was so utterly and hopelessly in love with? Why not someone with a bit more free fucking time?  
“Then you’ll end up resenting me, resent having to spend time with me. And it’ll just get messy again.”

“I could never resent that,” he assured her. “ _Never_.”

“It wouldn’t last. I know you, Malc. And I thought I could handle it, I really did, and I could for a while but really this is my fault and I’m sorry, sorry we didn’t just keep it to a couple of incredible shags when I showed up on your doorstep. Sorry I wanted more, sorry I didn’t fucking listen to you when you told me exactly how it was gonna be. I’m sorry. I just...I just can’t anymore.”

She turned away. grabbing her bag and walking past him, down the stairs. It was safe outside now. No photographers cared about Malcolm anymore, certainly not enough to be hanging around at this time, a week was a long time in politics. So was three days. She could just walk out of here and go home, assuming she could convince her feet to keep moving in the right direction.

 

It had been a long day back at work, only it wasn’t really being back at work because he hadn’t been in Downing Street, he hadn’t been doing his old job at all. He should have told Grey that before, he realised, but it had been late and they’d both obviously been tired and what could he say really? Tell her it was going to be different. She wouldn’t have believed him and then they’d’ve just ended up sitting up all night talking and Malcolm couldn’t do that, not with work looming.So now here he was alone and sat at the foot of his bed trying to work out what to do next. Grey had left. He kept telling himself it was for the best, for her if not him. Only he wasn’t so sure, maybe it was best for him as well. He was used to the job being all he had, making time for her, it was just an added stress. He wasn’t even convinced that was true either. Maybe this was better for the both of them, but maybe it wasn’t. She’d made it completely clear she still loved him, that she had no intention of going out with anyone else, it was him or no one. And he felt the same, even if he really didn’t have many options in that regard.

“ _Fuck_!” he barked, running his hand through his hair. He wasn’t one for grand gestures and neither was Grey, but he had to do something, didn’t he? Malcolm Tucker was not the kind of man that just gave up without a fight, so why the fuck had he just let her leave?

Grey was on the tube when her phone beeped and she couldn’t say she was exactly inclined to answer it. She wasn’t going to be happy whether the text was from Malcolm or not. She just couldn’t win. Story of her fucking life!

_Do you want to know what you are to me? You’re the most important person in my fucking life. Which I know isn’t saying a lot but you are, ok? x_

_And yet_

Okay so he probably deserved that. He didn’t treat her like the most important person in the world to him. Only actually he _did_. That was the truly pathetic thing. He saw her more than anyone he didn’t work with, but it wasn’t enough. All the things she’d said were true. They barely saw each other and really if he was any kind of decent man he’d just let her go, because it _was_ what was best for her. He just hated it, coming back to the empty crashpad every night. He missed her, he really did. 

_We can’t leave it like this_

_Like what?_

_With us not fucking being together. You said it yourself it’s me or no one so why not have it be me, darling? Or am I not even better than nothing?_

_That’s not what I said. I said I wasn’t gonna stick around and watch you kill yourself and you’re gonna do that. It isn’t about the waiting around. Time really doesn’t mean that much to me._

_I think you missed that part out actually, about me killing myself, But really I’m strong as a fucking ox, darling, .Can I come over? We need to talk. You’re right, I can’t leave the party. Not right now but…fuck Grey can we please talk about it?_

_Fine, come over. Just don’t be surprised if it goes really fucking badly and I end up hitting you, yeah?_

_“Suspect it’s the least I deserve. I’ll be there in a bit. What about your housemates?_

_They’ll be at work, depending on how long you stay we’ll work it out from there. No one’s ever been inclined to pay any interest in my personal life though, so I wouldn’t worry._

Malcolm took just a little while trying to weigh up his best options in terms of transport. Normally a tube would have been fine but he was feeling extra cautious since he’d been all over the papers and news _and_ was heading to Camden, to Grey, if anyone did think to follow him it was only going to make things a fuck of a lot worse, and it wasn’t like he could just trust some London cabbie.

“Tony?” he said into his phone. “I need you to take me to Camden. I’m assuming you’re still my man, right? Cos if you aren’t, and you’re likely to double cross me you’d better just fucking refuse now before I’m forced to call my pal Jamie, okay?”

“I’ll be there in ten,” he agreed. 

The wonder of Tony had always been that he didn’t ask questions. He’d been Malcolm’s official government payed driver for years but Malcolm had always tipped him well, just in case. When Grey had become a ‘thing’ in his life he’d been incredibly pleased he had. He’d put Grey in his car numerous times since she’d become an intern, and after that when they’d very occasionally got in the car together. Nothing had ever come out though. As far as Malcolm knew Tony was trustworthy. He really didn’t have anything to gain from fucking him over whereas he did have a kneecap or two to lose.

The journey was silent. Malcolm hadn’t even had to tell Tony where to go, he just knew, and better than that he knew not to ask _anything_.

When the car pulled up outside Grey’s shared house Malcolm handed over some money without even looking at it. “You’re on call,” he informed Tony “No more than five minutes away, you hear me?”

Tony gave a simple nod of the head then drove off again leaving Malcolm on his own to walk up the stairs and ring Grey’s doorbell.

 _Fuck_! She wished she hadn’t just been sitting there waiting for that sound from the moment he’d texted. She was so determined not to let him be her whole life but it was impossible. She hated him so much, wanted to want nothing to do with him but she knew she’d go to him time and time again whether he asked her to or not. Whether she met someone else or not.

She ran down the stairs, proud of herself for even having the restraint to not have been sat on them, or waiting downstairs. It was all a bit complicated - her feelings towards the house, but as far as she was concerned the only room she could really bear being in here was her bedroom, which might have accounted for how much time she spend at Malc’s crashpad. There she had a kitchen to use, and a TV. Generally speaking being there was just better even if it did tend to remind her of the fact he wasn’t.

She managed to pause for a moment before opening the door. She wasn’t sure how ready for any of this she was. Really she needed more time to get her head straight, but deep down she knew she would always choose him if he was an option.

There was a moment of self restraint when she opened the door to him, when she found enough self control not to react, not to smile or wrap her arms around him or anything like that. It had only been a day, not even that long really. It had been the middle of the night before that she’d left him. But this meant way too much. He’d come here, to her house, in the day, after an argument, a break up even. He’d swallowed his pride and now he was here. If she’d been in his position she wasn’t sure she’d have done the same. She looked up at him, standing there on her doorstep, still faintly broken, but she still kind of liked it. She wanted to look after him, to be the person he could depend on in any circumstance.

And then she reached for his hand, pulling him inside and kicking the door shut as she took him upstairs to her room, to her sanctuary. without a word.

“Talk then,” she said as she shut the door behind them.

“I’m an idiot,” he said. “I can’t lose you, but I can’t lose the job either, you know how important it is to me. But it won’t be, not forever. And it isn’t even my old job, I mean I think Julius thinks it’d look bad if he just brought me back, gave me back my old job after everything that’s gone on, and the whole fucking… _crime stats_ fuck up, and obviously anything that makes him look bad makes the party look bad which is very much not part of my plan. So really at the moment I’m basically working normal hours. Actually I left at half four today, fuck knows why since I had nothing to come back to but…”

Grey frowned when he said that. “Yeah well, whose fault was that?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed. “Look you have every fucking right in the world to be angry with me, to be defensive. I was trying to make a point, I got to leave, _early_! And it could be like that for a while.”

“For a while?” she repeated skeptically  
.  
“Well yeah, it probably won’t be permanent. Hopefully won’t be, but neither will the whole… _thing_. There will come a time when me leaving will be the right thing to do for the party.”

“And fuck me in the meantime, yeah?”

Malcolm tried very, very hard not to smile at her choice of words, but he’d never been much good at controlling his face sadly. “Well that’s very much what I’m hoping for, obviously,” he agreed.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She turned away from him, her frown deepening as she realised how little room there was in here, something not helped by all the clothes and CDs all over the floor. She had nowhere to go, no way of walking away from him, not unless she did so very fucking awkwardly and didn’t mind only ending up a few feet away.

“Then no, not fuck you in the meantime,” he replied, having the good sense not to mention anything about the fact she was currently attempting to walk away from him in a very small and very cluttered room. “I don’t think for one fucking _moment_ I deserve you waiting around for me, or putting up with any of the other shit I force you to put up with by being with me but… _fuck_ Grey, maybe if you didn’t keep reminding me you loved me, that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me I’d just give up on this whole fucking thing but…” he stepped forward, very carefully not stepping on any of her CDs, but it was impossible to avoid the clothes. Jesus. had the woman never heard of a fucking hanger?  
“I fucking love you, okay?” he said behind her, not daring to reach out and touch her even though it was taking all his will power not to take her hand, not to slip his arm around her waist.

Grey exhaled deeply, refusing to turn around to face him despite how much she wanted to. His ability to turn her into such a fucking mess was really quite impressive, especially since no one else had ever had any effect on her even close to this. 

Finally she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.. He looked so fucking _scared_ , so lost as he looked back at her. “I wish I’d never met you,” she told him.

“You and a thousand others, darling.”

She realised she was kissing him a bit too late to stop. So then she just gave up and turned so she could do it properly. So she could wrap her arms around his shoulders and thread her fingers through his hair and grab that fucking wonderful arse of his to get that little moan out of him. She loved him. Beyond all reason. Beyond all sanity. But she did. And she knew why. Fuck she was pretty sure she could write a dissertation about why she loved Malcolm and put up with everything she did, the thing was knowing all that didn’t always make it much easier, especially not when she was all alone at the work’s do, or going to bed alone night after night, and just generally living as if she wasn’t with anyone at all.

Only none of that actually seemed to matter right now. The only thing that mattered was that Malcolm had come to see her, not asked her to come to him, because she would have, they both _knew_ she would have. And that they were currently kissing like horny teenagers, that his hands were in her hair and he kept making the most fucking _sexy_ little sounds she’d ever heard.

“We really need to keep talking about this,” she said as she forced herself to break the kiss. She was still more or less clinging to him though, her body still pressed against his.

“Course,” he agreed breathlessly.

“But not right now, yeah? Cos if we do I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take all night and-” she cut herself off with a laugh. “I just really wanna fuck you, now you’re apparently back in full working order.” she admitted.

Malcolm tilted his hips a little more against hers, just in case she hadn’t worked out quite how into that idea he was already. “I think I’d be okay with that,” he agreed. “And you know that other thing…”

“Honestly? The shit you deal with on a daily basis I’m always kind of stunned when you can get it up,” she admitted with a bit of a laugh. “I love fucking you, Malc, like really fucking _seriously_ , but it’s not actually the most important thing. It’s your mind I like, your mind I fucking fell in love with,”

Malcolm pulled away just enough to get a proper look at her, though he kept his arm around her waist. “There is something so deeply fucking _wrong_ with you, darling,” he told her.

“Nah,” she said. “I guess I’m just into the whole passionate, principled Scot thing, and y’know you are pretty fucking hot, if I do say so myself.”

 

Grey’s alarm went off at 7.30am as it always did, reaching over to switch it off blindly she hit someone in the face instead.

“Fuck, sorry,” she muttered sleepily as she turned onto her side, opening her eyes and trying not to smile too widely, just in case he got the impression she liked him or something. “You’re still here,” she said pointlessly.

“Well by the time I woke up and thought about sneaking out I could already hear people downstairs, it’s purely so no one finds me here,” he lied.

“After last night I think they know you’re here.”

“Am I going to have to go and threaten all your housemates with unspeakable cruelty?” he asked, sounding a little too hopeful the answer was going to be yes.

“None of them are big enough pricks to sell stories to the papers even if they do know who you are, which honestly I don’t think they do. Spin Doctor’s only become famous like years after they’ve stopped running things, don’t they? Cos before that they make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Well yeah but...I have just been all over the papers.”

“Threaten them if you want, actually i don’t even know why I’m trying to discourage you, a bit of the Malcolm F Tucker treatment might stop them stealing my cereal.”

“I can threaten them over cereal,” he agreed. “If you want me to. Although y’know if we’re doing this you could keep it at the crashpad again, if you want.”

“I guess I could do that, yeah,” she agreed.

“And maybe a few more of your things, since you obviously don’t have enough fucking space here for all your clothes, or empty bottles of vodka.”

“Been having a bit of a shit time of it recently,” she admitted. She probably should have tidied up more, but it wasn’t like it really mattered, was it? She’d managed not to turn his place into the tip her room was, she respected his space way more than hers.

“You and me both, darling,” he said, leaning in to kiss her quickly before pulling away. “I should really be getting going. Or you know at least getting out of bed, putting on clothes, all that boring stuff.”

“ _Or_ you could just pull a sickie,” she suggested.

“It’s my second day back!”

“Go in late?” She tried. “Fuck’s sake, Malc, all the extra time you’ve put in over the years you should have fucking decades worth of hours to cash in.”

“It really doesn’t work like that. Sorry. But listen I’ll be out by five, why don’t you come over after work? Get started on this whole spending time together thing, hey?”

“I don’t have to go to work today, took emergency leave. I’ll sort it all out today, ask them if I can just use some of my holiday days.”

“You took emergency leave?” he asked.

“I walked out in the middle of the fucking day, Malc. Personal emergency, It’s fine, they’re ridiculously reasonable people.”

“You walked out, to come and make sure I was okay?” 

“Jesus, is there a fucking echo in here or something? Yes, I walked out, well I mean I told them I was going but…” she shrugged against the mattress “What was I gonna do? Carry on after seeing your fucking face all over the rolling news?” She shook her head. “So yeah, no work for me today. Maybe I’ll pack some stuff up, if you meant what you said last night.”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he agreed. “I miss having your shit in my wardrobe, not knowing what half the stuff in the fucking bathroom’s for. So please, come and make my place a bit more lived in for fuck’s sake.” He sat up slightly taking in the state of her room again and glancing down at her. “Just not quite this lived in, okay? Seriously it’s like a fucking bombs gone off at a fucking A.A. jumble sale.”

“I managed to keep things tidy before, didn’t I?” She pointed out slightly indignant despite really not having any right to be.

“You hardly had any stuff there before.”

“Malc, I won’t mess your fucking place up, okay? I’ll hang shit up, and I’ll recycle bottles. Hell maybe I won’t even drink as much anymore.” The moment she realised what she’d said she tensed. He didn’t need to know she was only really drinking as much as she was because of him, did he? It wasn’t like she hadn’t liked a drink before, but...yeah all the waiting around, being stood up and the fucking break up, she’d definitely dealt with all of it by drinking, how else was she meant to deal with it? Talk to someone like an emotionally mature adult?

“Well I am planning on distracting you from that kind of thing,” he told her. He wasn’t going to acknowledge what it meant, it was far too early in the morning for that and he really needed to be getting going.

“Alcohol?”

“Alcohol, food, fucking _breathing_ ,” he said, turning onto his side, kissing her again.

“Sinister but oddly hot,” she commented as he pulled back.

“That’s me, darling.” He sat up again, stretching in the bed beside her. “I really do have to get out of bed though,” he said.

“That’s fine. The sooner you fuck off the sooner I can get back to sleep.”

“You never were a morning person, were you?” he asked as he reluctantly pushed himself out of bed, looking around to try and find his clothes amongst hers. “There’s a high chance I’ll be leaving here in your boxers, darling,” he said as he picked up a pair.

Grey opened one eye to look at him, standing there naked in her bedroom for the first time ever. She just wanted to reach out and grab him, pull him back into bed with her and quite possibly never let him out again. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’ve missed accidentally wearing your clothes. Plus the idea of you in Whitehall wearing my dirty underwear kind of turns me on,”

“It would, pervert,” he said as he pulled them on.

She shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, pulling her pillow further down and watching as Malcolm dressed. It was ridiculous how sexy he could look putting clothes _on_ , and it wasn’t something she’d seen in over a year. Her hands fixed on his fingers, on the way he buttoned up his shirt and did up his tie all elegance and precision.

“You sure you can’t go in late,” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Cos I’ve got a real urge to suck you off while you finger me,” she told him.

He considered it for a moment, before picking up his watch from the bedside table, checking the time. It was already gone eight. “How about we do that when I get in tonight?” He offered.

“ _Fine_!” Grey sighed. “You just go off to work, leaving me here all horny and alone. Think of me, wanking over the thought of you while you’re on the Tube, yeah?”

“You know I don’t take the fucking Tube at this time, darling. Half an hour jammed into a fucking carriage with a load of sweaty fucking middle aged cunts in suits? I’ll call Tony, he shouldn’t be too far, I told him to keep close, just in case.”

“That was over twelve hours ago,” she pointed out.

“ _And_?”

“If he’s been waiting around for more than twelve fucking hours, do you really think he’s safe to drive?”

“Truckers drive fucking forty eight hours straight! Relax, he’ll be fine. He wouldn’t dare get in a fucking accident with me in the car.”

Grey shook her head, it was pointless even trying.

He stepped closer, leaning over to kiss her goodbye. “So you’ll be at mine when I get back, yeah?”

“When am I not?”

 

When Grey woke up again it took her a moment to remember what had happened the night before, and when she’d first woken up for that matter. When she did she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Malcolm had stayed, but more than that Malcolm had said he’d see her later, only not the one am kind of later, the perfectly reasonable kind. They were doing this, and it was all gonna be okay, because he had a different job now and he’d actually have time to spend with her. It was easier than normal to get out of bed. She’d honestly never thought they’d get to this point, really she’d kind of assumed her whole life was just going to be some fucked up mess of her constantly trying to leave Malcolm without ever really managing it. It wasn’t something she was happy about, and it was something she only ever acknowledged to herself when she was really fucking drunk, but still. She was meant to be with him, however much bollocks that involved. But apparently the bollocks was over, or much smaller at least. He’d even told her to bring some of her things over, like that made it official.

She wasn’t moving in with him, she reminded herself as she attempted to pack a few things to leave at the crashpad. Although she had always spent much more time at his than here. The thing was he was never there himself, he’d just roll in sometime after midnight and generally be gone by six. Now Malcolm was actually going to be there when she was. She was suddenly terrified. No, that was stupid, she’d worked with him for a year and they’d got on incredibly, and whatever time they had managed to spend together over the last couple of years had been amazing. Then of course there was the sex, Christ, even if the very worst happened and they ran out of things to say to each other there’d always be that, and honestly, part of her thought that might actually be enough - that sexual attraction she had for him. If never faded, even when she wanted to scream at him for being such a bastard. It’d be okay, fuck she hadn’t gone through all this for it not to be.

 

She hoped she hadn’t packed too much, the people of the tube certainly didn’t seem impressed with the size of her bag, but really, fuck them. She just hoped Malcolm wouldn’t suddenly backtrack once her things were in his wardrobe, his drawers. It had been so difficult to work out what to pack though, it wasn’t like there were ever going to be meals out or anything like that, she was still a secret after all and would be until he left politics if they were careful enough. She needed things for work though, and all the time she’d packed she’d told herself she wasn’t moving in with him, but fuck, she was, wasn’t she? All her _decent_ clothes were in the bag she was having to constantly shift out of people’s way as she made her way towards Westminster. Why would she go back to that fucking shared house though? It was just better at Malcolm’s, easier and quieter and there was better food and alcohol and no arseholes stealing her food and hogging the TV and bathroom and everything else. She’d been living in Malcolm’s crashpad since they’d started seeing each other. He just hadn’t been there.

There was a lot more room when Grey transferred to the DLR, giving her chance to sit down and not stress so much about being surrounded by sweaty strangers glaring at her and pushing her about. It gave her chance to relax, to look out of the window at the huge TV screens as they passed through Canary Wharf. Grey had got into the habit of keeping an eye on the news wherever she was since she’d started going out with Malcolm, It was a good indicator of what kind of time he was likely to be getting in and what kind of a mood he’d be in when he did. Not that she had to keep an eye out here, it was more or less impossible to ignore the huge screens even if you didn’t give a shit about the FTSE or what was going on in the world.. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry so much about all that now though. Still she found herself reading the headlines of the rolling news just as avidly as always, which was when she saw it, plasted in eight foot high letters. ‘Prime Minister calls for election.’

“ _Fuck_!” she hissed.


End file.
